


The Annoying Thing About Happy Endings

by Maldoror_Chant



Category: One Piece
Genre: Comedy, Happy Ending, M/M, NOT a Princess Bride crossover, Swords, tough guys getting together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 01:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11909931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maldoror_Chant/pseuds/Maldoror_Chant
Summary: The annoying thing about Happy Endings is that they're generally not endings. And then life is all about finding the next crazy challenge and someone to share it with. Preferably someone not too aggravating, but Sanji has learned to make do.





	1. The Annoying Thing About Happy Endings

Zeff tossed back his shot and set the glass down with a firm click. "You know what your problem is?" 

"Yeah." Sanji snagged the bottle and watched the scant inch of amber liquid slosh in the candlelight. "My problem is that this excellent whiskey is almost finished."

"No, that's not your problem."

"Yes, it is my problem." Sanji's lips felt numb and the walls of his cabin were swimming around him as if the three of them had played their poker game down on the seabed. But the whiskey really had been superb. "It was hard enough getting this stuff back in East Blue. Now that the Baratie is moored on the All Blue, we can't reach this particular distillery unless we sail halfway around the world, leave the Grand Line and-hey!"

However drunk he was, Sanji could still dodge a kick from a peg-leg. It came from years of practice.

"I wasn't talking about your bloody booze, crap-kid, I was talking about what you said. How the two of you feel at loose ends right now."

"I don't feel at loose ends. The restaurant takes up twenty five hours of my day, how can I be at loose-"

"That's what you said."

"No, I said-..." Sanji ruffled his bangs and rubbed his forehead in the hopes that'd help his memory. His brain felt pickled. "I just said that these days, me and the idiot swordsman, we just feel like we're...coasting. Things are too...predictable, I guess."

"Yes, and that's what your problem is: you were all too young when you fulfilled your dreams."

Sanji gave him an owlish look. "And this is a bad thing?"

"It can be. Granted, your dreams all keep you busy and doin' good. Your buddy the Pirate King sure makes things safer out there, with his habit of sending villains down to play cards with Davy if they hurt the people he likes - and by now he's got so many friends, that covers almost everybody. And that map of the Grand Line his girlfriend is making, with all the currents and ins and outs and stuff? Useful, that."

Sanji gave Zeff a reproachful look. That was not a subject that should be brought up so callously. Sanji had been devastated a couple of years ago when he'd figured out the 'girlfriend' aspect of the Luffy-Nami association, because there was no way a dunce like Luffy could ever treat such a goddess right. The only thing that had stopped him from charging over, putting an end to this travesty, sweeping Nami off her feet and carrying her off into the sunset, was that Luffy was one of his best friends in the world and Sanji couldn't do that to him. The fact that Sanji had his hands rather full at home _might_ have influenced his decision too. A bit. So Nami was left to suffer. Fate was decidedly cruel. 

The old fossil ploughed right on in that didactic tone of his. "That's where the two of you are as well; you've both got it made. You're the new Head Chef of the only restaurant to ever sail the All Blue, and that lazy bastard over there is the greatest swordsman alive. Talking of which... I know this is a tough eatery and we still get a lot of pirate customers, but don't you think hiring Roronoa Zoro as a bouncer is overkill? What's he doing here again, apart from eating our food for free?"

In the background, Zoro's snores took on a rasping quality, as if he knew they were talking about him. 

Sanji could feel the veins twitch in his forehead. "You know damn well what he's doing here, you shitty geezer; you've not stopped baiting me about it for the past two years. One of these days I'm gonna snap and kick that ugly head of yours clean off your fucking shoulders."

Zeff leered. "Oooh, bashful and defensive, baby eggplant. The look suits you. Just remember I can still take you down one-legged and in my sleep, crap-kid, before you shoot that mouth off."

Sanji decided he was too drunk for a fight. "Forget about the pea-brain. So, what's wrong with having our dreams come true?"

"Just that now you need a new challenge to look forward to."

Sanji tried to think of a challenge that could surpass finding the All Blue, defeating Mihawk Dracule or winning the One Piece, and his brain melted.

"No, not that kind of challenge, you stupid git. The other kind of challenge. The one that's a good deal less exciting but that you can leave behind as a legacy. And this is where you've got a problem. If you'd managed to snag that pretty navigator of yours, you'd be all set, but you and your buddy over there, snoring like someone's attacking the hull with a saw, well, guys like you tend to live in the present and not think about the future. And you don't come equipped to produce it, either."

Sanji darted a suspicious look at the bottles strewn about the table. "Old man, one of us must be completely smashed, because I don't understand a word you're saying here."

"You wouldn't. Don't worry about it, fishrow-brains." Zeff snorted, a twisted smile beneath his moustache. "I managed to find my challenge and my legacy, and I never had to bother settling down with a woman to do so; I'm sure you and the bouncer will eventually figure something out."

"What are you talking ab-"

"I'm going to bed," Zeff announced, and then he tipped back his head against the chair rest, closed his eyes and started snoring louder than Zoro. 

Sanji shook his head in annoyance, covered the drunken old fool with a blanket and went to smoke a last cigarette on the deck as the sun rose over the waters of the All Blue.

He'd forgotten Zeff's words considerably faster than he'd forgotten next morning's hangover. But something must have stuck, because Sanji lost the feeling he and Zoro were treading water and gained a sense of vague expectation.

A fortnight later, the two men were heading back to the supply ship with provisions when something really weird happened.

"You! You're Roronoa Zoro!"

Well, that wasn't weird, it happened all the time. The advantage of having Zoro staying at the Baratie was that challengers for the title of the world's greatest swordsman knew where to find him. The other advantage was that he did make one hell of a bouncer, scaring off entire fleets with a scowl and an inch of drawn steel; the Baratie's fighting chefs had complained they weren't getting enough exercise anymore, until Zoro agreed to let them handle those challengers for the title he judged too weak to bother with.

So, having Zoro recognized and attacked on sight was hardly new, but his challengers weren't usually dwarfs. Or rather - Sanji looked closer - small boys brandishing swords.

"Hello. My name is Mihawk Inigo. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

That was new too.

Sanji had just a moment to decide that the look on Zoro's face was _priceless_ , before the kid yelled and attacked. A heartbeat later, the boy was measuring his length on the sun-bleached wood of the pier, out cold. Zoro, who'd faced the world's best and walked away afterwards, hadn't had to draw his blades or put down the groceries. He even managed to dodge Sanji's kick to the head a second later, but that was a much closer call.

"Oi! What was that for, you bloody cook?!" Zoro twisted around on himself to avoid dropping the barrel of brandy he'd been carrying. 

"Why'd you hit him?! He's just a small kid!" 

"He attacked me! And I didn't hit him, I barely nudged him."

"You don't know your own strength, baits-for-brains." Sanji shouldered his own supply bag and went over to check on the boy. "Odd...do you think he's really Mihawk's son? The guy never struck me as the family type."

They looked down at the unconscious kid whose lips were forming the words 'Hello...My name is...Mihawk Inigo...You killed...'

"Get the feeling this one's going to be persistent?" Zoro asked glumly.

"Hm-hm. Well, no use hanging around here. You get the mooring rope, I'll carry the kid." 

"What?!"

"We can't leave him here. Look at him, he's half-starved. And nobody in this pirate town will help him; they'll pressgang him or sell him for a pint of grog." Sanji shifted the provisions around until he could hoist the boy onto his shoulder.

Zoro heaved an aggravated sigh, but he knew very well that if someone was hungry, Sanji was going to feed them come hell or high water, so he picked up the kid's sword and followed.

\---

Inigo ate like he had two more starving boys tucked away inside his stomach. Sanji grinned and dished out second helpings. They were alone in the Baratie's kitchens. The other cooks were putting away the supplies and staying well away from their Head Chef's latest lunacy, and Zoro was sulking outside the door, unable to come in because as soon as he did, the kid would try to attack him with a fork, shouting 'Hello! My name is Mihawk Inigo! You killed my father! Prepare to die!'

Sanji was having the time of his life. It had been ages since he'd felt this crazily amused. Not since he found the All-Blue and became the co-owner of the world's greatest restaurant, instead of a mad dreamer with nothing to lose and the ability to laugh like there was no tomorrow.

"So, Inigo..." 

The kid looked up. On closer inspection he had Mihawk's eyes beneath those slanted dark eyebrows, though it wasn't all that noticeable while he was stuffing his face. The resemblance was more pronounced when Zoro popped his head in on occasion and the boy started his spiel again, those eyes fixed and blazing like daddy's. 

"Let's say I'll buy that you're Mihawk's son. What do you want?"

"I want to avenge my father!"

"Revenge? That's not a very good dream," Sanji said softly, fishing out a cigarette. "Nobody gets anything out of that one in the end, not you, not your father-"

"And then I'll be the world's greatest swordsman," Inigo said, stabbing a potato with his fork. "I'm going to get my father's title back."

Sanji nodded. "That's better." 

There was a querulous "Better?!" from outside the door. Zoro wasn't following Sanji's train of thought, but that was because he was a dumbass.

Sanji flicked his lighter. "Got a mother?" 

"...No. She died two years ago. I've been living with my aunt, but she says she wants to put me in a private school when I'm older so I can become a _civil servant_."

"A fate worse than death. How old are you, kid?"

Inigo stopped eating and looked shifty. "I'm twelve."

"Huh-uh. Pull the other one."

"...Ten?"

"Getting warmer, but I don't think we're there yet."

"...I'm eight."

"Eight?" Zoro appeared in the doorframe, staring at the kid in an intrigued manner that made Sanji smile to himself. "And you can already swing a sword like that? Did-"

"Hello! My name is Mihawk Inigo! You killed-"

"Fuck it-"

"ZORO, OUT! INIGO, DOWN!"

Sanji smoothed the ruffled bangs across his forehead and wondered why he had the feeling he was going to shout like that a lot in the days to come.

"Why do I have to listen to you?" Inigo complained. "You're just a cook, and you got funny eyebrows."

Some green-haired moron outside the door snickered once. 

"I'm a first-rate cook, actually, and the Head Chef and co-owner of this restaurant-ship; that means that on this boat, God himself busses tables if I tell him to. I can also go three rounds with Zoro barehanded, so if I tell you to sit down and shut up, crap-kid, trust me, you'll do it."

The boy stared at him and then decided to sit down and shut up, looking momentarily cowed.

"Now, it's been nearly three years since Mihawk died of his injuries after his fight with marimo-head." Sanji suspected the old Shichibukai had let himself die...passing on the crown and the dream the only way these violent types knew how. "And before that, he was hardly what I'd call a parental figure, or even one to stay in place for more than three days. Zoro and the rest of us had to chase him all around the Grand Line before the final showdown. Did you even meet him?"

"I did! Um, once...for a few minutes..." Inigo stared at his plate as if it had become utterly absorbing.

"I see. What did he say?"

"Um, that if I ever learned how to use a sword, maybe I could beat him and become the world's greatest swordsman. But I can't do that because Roronoa killed him!"

"It was a fair fight and I won it," came a grumble from outside the door. 

Sanji relit the cigarette that had gone out. 

"So, it's not so much that you want to avenge your dad because you liked him - or even knew him. You just want to kill Zoro because he beat Mihawk before you could grow up and do it."

Inigo blinked and looked confused. He was only eight. Still, that was the age where great big dreams were born.

"The thing is, you can't beat the best unless you learn from the best. Even Zoro had to learn a few hard lessons from Mihawk before he was able to take him down. And you? Looks like you inherited some ability, but unless you work real hard, you won't get anywhere. Right now, a whole army of shrimp like you wouldn't make Zoro break a sweat. You understand that?"

Inigo gave him an unblinking arrogant look that was faintly familiar. Feisty lil' squirt.

"So you should stay here and let Zoro teach you the works."

"WHAT?! Sanji, have you gone nuts-"

"Hello! My name is Mihawk-"

"Get out, you moronic hunk of muscles," Sanji snarled, wrestling Inigo back into his chair. 

"Crap-cook...we need to talk. Now." Zoro was still standing in the doorway, fists clenched and an ugly gleam in his eyes.

A voice behind Sanji said, "I agree, baby eggplant. You two go and have a powwow."

Sanji glanced up in surprise. How long had Zeff been there? An old geezer with a peg leg should not be able to move that quietly. And why was he grinning like a walrus?

"Go ahead, crap-kid. I'll take care of the younger generation." Zeff nodded down at Inigo, who glowered arrogantly up at Zeff. It seemed to be the kid's favourite facial expression.

Sanji heard Zoro stomp towards their room in a way that told him that now would be a really good time to talk, before tempers rose further and the Baratie got damaged in the fallout. "Fine. Inigo, stay here and do what the crap-geezer tells you."

As he left, Sanji heard Zeff pull up a chair and say, "Tell me, kid, you wouldn't happen to have a lil' brother or sister who's got grand dreams of working in a restaurant, would you?"

"Huh? No." Inigo was starting to sound really frazzled. It was a lot for an eight-year old to take in.

"Pity...oh well, we'll manage to find one eventually-"

Sanji decided he didn't want to know what the old geezer was talking about. He was going to have his work cut out talking that miserable blades-for-brains into this.

\---

"This is by far the stupidest- craziest- the kid wants to kill me!"

"A detail. Look, you're always complaining that you don't have enough to do on the Baratie, apart from all the challengers you get. And I know you've always wanted to start a dojo."

"A do-..." Seeing Zoro knocked completely speechless was a rare sight indeed, but the bastard had the recovery time of a Luffy doped on ham joints. "Yeah, I did think of founding my own dojo one day, preferably with students who aren't trying to kill me."

"If he's Mihawk's son, he'll be a great swordsman."

"With me training him he'll be even better, but he's _trying_ to _kill_ me."

"Don't worry, I'll talk him into not trying that until he's mastered Santoryuu, assuming three-swords is the way he wants to go. It'll take him years." 

"...Was it that weird fish with the red spots at dinner last night? You said it was a brand new All-Blue species; did anybody else eat some and go loco?"

"Look." Sanji grabbed the front of Zoro's open shirt and gave him a shake. "Even if we put him back on shore, the kid'll come after you no matter what. He looks as stubborn as you are, if that's humanly possible at that age. And he'll probably starve or get himself killed. This is the Grand Line, not a fucking crèche. It's a miracle he made it this far. I know you and his father had some pretty heavy bushido-shit going on; don't you feel responsible for Mihawk's offspring?"

"That's-...well, maybe a bit, but-"

"So just let him stay onboard. I'll talk him out of the constant attacks on sight, until he grows out of them. I'm sure he'll still try to ambush you from time to time, but don't tell me you can't handle that. Or are you slipping already, Roronoa?"

"Try me and find out, you aproned-" 

"Think about it. You can teach him the swordsman's code, and explain what really went down between you and Mihawk. I'm sure Hawkeye doesn't resent you down there in hell, and if the match had gone the other way, neither would you; one day, Inigo will understand that. It's better he understand that, rather than letting anger drive him his entire life."

Zoro wouldn't meet his gaze and glared moodily out the porthole.

Sanji shook him by the collar again, for being a stubborn prick. "Come on, let's keep the brat. And if he gets to be too great a pain in the ass, we can always pitch him overboard. It's the advantage of an ocean-going restaurant." 

Sanji smiled privately at his own words and a decade-old memory of a gravely old voice telling him, "If a stupid baby eggplant like you wants to stay here and help me with the Baratie, I guess I can't stop you. If you get to be too great a pain in the ass, I can always pitch you overboard. It's the advantage of an ocean-going restaurant."

Zoro was rubbing a thumb across Wado's hilt, a gesture that meant he was thinking. He stared hard at Sanji, who'd never been put off by that particular lethal glower and stared right back. Then Zoro seemed to turn that hard look in on himself, searching deep inside...Finally, he shrugged.

"You're not doing the kid any favours, you know. I'll be the harshest teacher he'll ever have. He's got an interesting swing for an eight-year-old, but his follow-through shames the name of his father. I'll-hm!"

Zoro grumbled through Sanji's mouth that the dumbass cook had bumped him into the bulkhead by jumping him like that, and then he stopped bitching and started tonguing, which was really all that mattered. Three minutes later, they were staggering towards the bed, still biting and groping-

\- Sanji felt the bunk's springs hit him in the back; he was gasping and fighting and slipping his fingers under that ratty old haramaki. It was always wild between them, exciting and intense and full of the complex feelings that bound them as nakama as much as anything else, one thing they'd been missing after all their adventures and that they always found in each other. Life was all about finding the next challenge and someone to share it with, and this was life, this was-

"I've found you! Hello! My name is Mihawk Inigo-"

"GET OUT!"

"Oi, crap-cook, can we throw him overboard now?" 

A lot of customers over the years found the Baratie to be a lot noisier than they expected for such a high-end restaurant. The patrons either got used to it or were escorted back to their ships by the fighting cooks, who were proud of their eatery, their Head Chef and their two crazy bouncers (the toughest in all four Blues, even if they spent as much time fighting each other - and the Head Chef - as the pillagers they were supposed to chase off). The All Blue Baratie was going to be as noisy and full of life as it damn well chose to be, and if the customers didn't like it, they could piss off. Hey, whose dream was it anyway?!


	2. Baratie's Saturday Special (Includes Dinner and Dueling)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji and Zoro show a little of their affection and mutual respect (the young and the uninitiated say it looks a lot like 'trying to beat the shit out of each other', but that's because they don't know these two guys very well)

The lunch rush was over, the customers had departed. The madness that was the dinnertime shift had yet to start and Sanji's sanity depended on getting a hit of nicotine before it did.

Once he lit up, he planted his elbows upon the upper deck railing and gazed out at the sparkling waters of the All Blue. The sun was shining over the cresting waves, the sea teemed with the most delightful fish to ever populate a cook's fervent dreams, and life was sweet.

Things were less peachy aboard the Baratie itself, where Inigo was trying to kill Zoro again. Sanji scowled as he caught sight of the brat inching around on the starboard side of the lower deck, sword poised, eyes intent on the sleeping figure propped up against a coil of rope at the prow. Sanji thought he'd reasoned the kid into putting a stop to these attacks, but apparently Inigo had only been nodding to get Sanji off his back about it.

He considered jumping down to the lower deck to intervene, but then decided to let the kid suffer for his mistakes. The thought that this could be dangerous for Zoro never even crossed his mind.

Inigo stood above the slumbering swordsman, weapon raised, but he hesitated. Sanji realized the kid was having problems attacking an adversary unawares, even if said adversary could take him apart like an over-boiled noodle once awake. Sanji was sure glad to be a cook. He didn't give a crap about bushido. If he saw a good shot, he'd take it.

"Wake up," Inigo finally said, his young voice floating up to where Sanji was watching.

Zoro didn't stir. 

"My name is Mihawk Inigo. You killed my father. Prepare to- wake up already!"

Zoro gave a particularly sonorous snore and then lapsed back into more regular breathing, still fast asleep. 

Inigo must have snapped at that juncture, because he swung his sword straight down, slicing at Zoro's chest.

Zoro didn't move. Except for his left arm, which was now blocking the blade instead of comfortably pillowing his head. The edge of the kid's sword pressed into bare skin but hadn't put a scratch on it. 

Sanji would have chosen to parry with a foot rather than an arm, but he'd have used the same technique: meeting the downward thrust near the hilt, going with the blow so fast the normal eye couldn't follow, cushioning it and dissipating the energy until the blade came to a halt. But even knowing how it was done, Sanji had to admit it looked pretty impressive, especially since to all appearances, Zoro was still asleep. Hell, with those reflexes and his freakish ability to nap through anything, he probably was...Sanji examined the angle of Inigo's blade as it pressed down on Zoro's arm, then he flicked his ash and shook his head. Zoro was right, the kid had a beautiful strike for an eight-year-old, but he lacked precision on the follow-through. 

Inigo gaped in amazement before he snatched his sword away and staggered back. Zoro's arm remained in position for a few seconds and then sank peacefully down to his chest.

Sanji didn't know how he'd have reacted at Inigo's age. Yelled, thrown a fit, tried to bite the bastard...Inigo just turned on his heels and walked away. His small face was downcast, but his step was firm; accepting his defeat for now. Most of the time, he was just a brat getting underfoot, but then Sanji would catch an unexpected glimpse of Mihawk...

Sanji pushed away from the railing, descended the stairs to the lower deck, sauntered over to the napping swordsman and kicked him on the ankle to get his attention. "Yo."

"What."

"He might stop doing that if you actually took care of him a bit." Sanji glanced at the double doors that had closed behind Inigo. "You've spent his first three days on board ignoring him. You're supposed to be his sensei, right? Why aren't you teaching him stuff?"

Zoro still hadn't opened his eyes, but the one-sided smile on his face would have frightened a barracuda. "I am."

"...Oh well, it's your dojo. Does it have a name, by the way?"

Zoro's right eye finally cracked open. "A name?"

Sanji had been hoping to see a bit more enthusiasm from Zoro about the future of Santoryuu; the swordsman was in even more danger of post-dream restlessness than the cook, who at least had the All-Blue Baratie to keep him fully occupied. But so far, it seemed Zoro's interest in teaching matched Inigo's interest in learning, and since Inigo was only staying on board in the hopes of killing this supposed ‘sensei', that wasn't saying a lot. Sanji tried anyway. "Don't these muscle-head schools have names? As a matter of pride?" 

Zoro yawned and then scratched an ear, looking bored. "A name? Dunno. When's lunch?"

"That's an odd name for a school."

"Huh?"

"Fitting though. Come on, Zeff is dishing it up as we speak."

Zoro grumbled something about 'dumb cook' and rolled to his feet to follow.

Zeff had set the table in his cabin with a selection of the lunch's leftovers. Sanji, Zeff and Zoro usually ate the makanai, the cooks' meal, in the kitchen with the others, but since Inigo's arrival three days ago, they'd decided without consultation to avoid exposing the boy's tender young ears to the other cooks and their foul language as much as possible. Lunch had become a somewhat calmer affair now that they were out of the galley. Sanji and Zeff talked quietly about menu items, underlings and their boneheaded mistakes, while Inigo glowered at Zoro who ate in silence. The calm and cozy atmosphere was something Sanji thought he could get used to.

Sanji had just swallowed the last bite of his fish stew when he realized that Inigo was staring at him now. Considering the kid had inherited Mihawk's ability to go without blinking for several minutes, it was a bit unsettling, but Sanji was getting used to it. 

"Ready for dessert?" He gave the boy's vegetables a pointed look. "Finish what's on your plate, and then we have some left-over pie-"

"I don't believe you."

"...You don't believe we've got pie?" Sanji picked up the platter and gave it a judicious glance. Sure looked like pie to him, and he should know.

"I don't believe you when you say you can fight _him_ barehanded. You're just a cook, and you look kind of weak to me."

Zoro, sitting opposite the kid, reached for his cup. Sanji had weaned him from downing cheap rum with his food, but the philistine still refused to use a stemmed glass and insisted on drinking his wine from a large mug instead, 'because you get more that way'. Zoro didn't say anything until after he'd taken an uncultured gulp, then he put his cup down and turned towards Sanji with an indolent tilt of the head. 

"Yeah, crap-cook, d'you really think you can fight _me_ barehanded?"

Sanji stared at Zoro for a split second- 

Then his lips twitched. He knew that look...

The pie dish hit the table with an ominous click. "What was that, marimo?" 

Inigo blinked at Sanji as if he couldn't believe those tones of urbane menace could come from a mere cook. Zeff, opposite Sanji, froze with his fork halfway to his mouth and a look of foreboding on his face.

"You deaf? I said, can a pansy cook like you really fight me barehanded?"

"It's not my hands you have to worry about." Sanji checked that his cigarettes were in his breast pocket and pushed his chair away from the table.

"You have anything else?" Zoro tossed back the rest of his wine, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and got to his feet. 

"Don't bust up the boat," Zeff rapped out. "If you two want to fight, do it out on the landing."

The landing was a large pontoon, almost the size of their dining room, anchored a hundred yards from the Baratie. It made a handy place for customers to dock their ships and disembark, and the Baratie would host large parties there when the weather was clement. The advantage of the pontoon was that it was just a cheap assembly of wood and floaters, so it was easy to fix if it got busted up. 

Zeff, with Sanji's vest and jacket slung over his shoulder, stood alongside Inigo in the supply boat that had ferried them over to the landing. Across the water, the decking of the Baratie had sprouted cooks and busboys all cheering on their Head Chef, the upholder of their restaurant's pride; though Sanji was pretty sure he could hear a couple of jackasses yelling "Roronoa! Kick that crap-bastard's ass for us!" in the background. The day's customers were clustered along the decks of their ships to watch the spectacle. One of the more enterprising waiters was going from vessel to vessel taking orders for drinks and snacks, so at least the afternoon wasn't a total loss.

Sanji loosened his tie with a couple of jerks. This circus was going to make him late for the dinnertime shift. Annoying lump of muscles. 

Zoro, on the opposite side of the landing, swished Yubashiri around, and then tossed it up and caught it again, holding it with the razor edge away from Sanji. The other two slivers of his soul were still in their scabbards. "We haven't done this in awhile," he commented.

"You missed getting your ass kicked?"

That earned Sanji a hard grin. "In a way, yeah. I certainly missed kicking yours."

Sanji shrugged, almost an apology. It was true that he spent too many of his hours in the kitchen. He idly tapped the toe of one sandal against the wood of the pontoon; like Zoro's reversed hold on his sword, the footwear was his only concession to safety. Protective measures were for wusses. "Well, are we doing this or not? I've got to get back to the kitchens, and I'm paying you on the clock if I recall."

"Right away, boss," said Zoro, levelling the point of his sword at Sanji's breastbone. The battle-hungry look on his face made a couple of the lady customers gasp, their delicate hands fluttering to their mouths. Out of sheer fright, of course. Yes, most definitely out of fright. Sanji blew them some kisses and hearts to reassure them. 

"He can't do it," Inigo declared, as assured as only a child could be. "He's going to get really hurt, unless Zoro doesn't fight seriously. That cook isn't-"

Whatever Sanji was, or wasn't, was lost in a startled 'eep!', but the kid was slow, way too slow. By the time he'd squeaked like that, the first attack - a bipartisan lunge forward across the landing - was already over. Sanji had managed to jump over that first slash and scuff Zoro on the shoulder with his right foot- it should have been a kick to the stomach, but the bastard was faster than a greased weasel right from the get-go and had managed to dodge. 

They skidded apart, the speed of their attack sending shudders up and down the wooden landing and strong ripples out into the surrounding water. The customers gasped, the cooks cheered and booed, and Inigo eventually closed his mouth. Zeff made a rude comment about Sanji's form and how the crap-kid was getting lazy, because that bastard always had to stick his oar in.

The two men turned to face each other. Zoro's eyes were shining with a hard, exalted light like the reflection of sun on steel. It made Sanji's insides do funny things...but outwardly he knew he looked untouched, almost bored, like he usually did in a fight; as if this little scuffle was hardly worth getting excited about, even as the prickles up his spine called him a liar.

Zoro attacked again, slashing from right to left and then trying to ram Sanji with his shoulder. Sanji dodged and retaliated with a swipe at Zoro's knees, only to find the blade already there and parrying. Leather sole thudded against steel. Sanji immediately threw himself forwards, weight landing on his hands while legs scythed up and over his body, trying to catch Zoro on a high kick, but the prick parried _again_ \- and he was using only the one sword at this point. Infuriating fucker.

Sanji, still standing on his hands, spun around instantly and delivered a vicious kick lower and from the opposite direction, and that one connected with a satisfying thud. He righted himself, absently dodged the swipe he knew would follow; lunged in again and tried for a low kick to the ankles, but Zoro vaulted over his foot and slashed at his chest.

Sanji twisted away. Zoro stepped back, sword flicking to his side. That was the warm-up out of the way.

"...Still, Zoro isn't trying all that hard. Is he?" Inigo sounded a lot less sure of himself.

Sanji shot forward - then at the last moment sprang straight up. Take it into mid-air, where he had the longer reach and Zoro less power-

Zoro had backed off, which was not what Sanji had expected Mr Rise-To-All-Challenges to do. Sword held straight up, eyes shut, his face had the oddly serene look of a mountain slope of snow right before the avalanche.

No way, thought Sanji, he's not gonna-

Sanji saw the sword move, because his eyes and body were trained for those speeds. For everybody else, it looked like Zoro went instantly from that composed stance to crouched, Yubashiri's tip touching the wood of the landing. 

And the air ripped apart before him.

The invisible slice picked Sanji up before he could get his feet back on the pontoon, so he couldn't dodge. Another man gifted with Sanji's speed would have at least thrown up his hands in self-defence, but Sanji was not a normal man, he was a first-rate cook, so he took the blow right in the chest instead.

There was no pain, only a swift ripping sound. Sanji hoped that wasn't his belly. No, of course not, Zoro had more control than that-

How much control, Sanji hadn't fully appreciated until now. He didn't have more than a faint red mark on his skin, but his shirt had been sliced clean open.

Sanji was speechless, adrenaline punching through his veins, while at the same time he couldn't help but feel pretty impressed by that display of world-renown skill - even a little proud in a weird way, because it was _Zoro_ wielding that sword, his nakama, his- well, his something or other-

Then his feet were skidding on wood again and Sanji returned to a much more familiar state of mind. "You son of a bitch! This is one of my good shirts!"

Zoro was looking at him with a funny ol' gleam in those steely eyes. "Yeah, but it looks a lot better on you like that." He lifted Yubashiri to his mouth and let it rest against his lips, as if tasting the effects of his steel. In the audience, several ladies came over faint at this display of atrocious brutality. Or so Sanji assumed. He'd blow them some more kisses and lavish them with free drinks as soon as he kicked this dickhead off the planet.

And then the dickhead was in his face, a silver waterfall tumbling straight towards Sanji's head. Sanji blocked it automatically, foot shooting straight up, aiming for the hilt, trying to break Zoro's hold on the weapon. Zoro grunted at the impact and went with the momentum Sanji had given him, spinning around on himself and bringing the sword barrelling around from the other side. Sanji flipped back onto his hands to dodge, legs scissoring up, trying to catch the blade and tear it away from its owner.

Zoro jerked the sword out of reach, spun around on himself again and- 

The impact turned Sanji's world into a blur of wood and sky and sea, and then he was on his knees ten feet away, shaking his head and feeling at a tender spot on his lower back. 

Had that...unspeakable bastard... _kicked_ him...?

Zoro swished his sword around, idly slicing air. "Come on, Sanji-kun, you're making this way too easy for me."

Only Zoro could make his proper name sound like a worse insult than ‘dumbass'. 

A baited silence had fallen over the audience. The scrape of Sanji's sandals sounded loud as he got to his feet. He didn't look at Zoro. His packet of smokes was undamaged, though a bit flattened on one side. Sanji drew one out, fished around in his back pocket for the lighter. Fingers sheltering the flame from the wind, he made his way without hurry towards the center of the landing.

Zoro's eyes narrowed. He drifted sideways like a tiger through long grass, keeping the same distance between them. Then he brought up his sword to his right side, hilt at waist height, blade straight out before him like the muzzle of a rifle, and a hundred times more dangerous than that considering who was wielding it. The double-handed grip only increased the power.

"Watch out, Head Chef!" one of the cooks shouted. "He means to plug you!"

"Fuck, I've seen him punch through steel with that pose!" Patty barked. 

Zoro's boots made an odd crackling noise as he took his first steps forward, wood splintering beneath his feet as he charged. 

"Run!" Inigo screamed, as Sanji just stood there, flicking the lighter shut.

There was a solid _wham_. It rocked the landing and sent air wafting into Zeff's long moustache.

Distantly, Sanji heard the gasps of horror turn into surprise and wonder. At the center of his world, Zoro gave him a half-grin, savage and proud. 

"Nice block, love-cook. I see you haven't lost it entirely yet."

Sanji slipped the lighter back in his pocket and glanced down. His left leg had parried the thrust towards his chest by trapping the blade, his foreleg on one side of the steel, his foot positioned on the other side near the hilt, exerting sideways torque between those two points to effectively lock the blade in place and stop Zoro from pushing it forward or drawing it back. The swordsman could jerk the sword up to free it and Sanji would clobber him if he left himself open like that. 

"I haven't lost anything, marimo-kun; I just take longer than you do to warm up. We don't all live for fighting every second of our lives."

"You should."

"No, that's what I pay a bouncer for."

"Hmf."

The audience was starting to twitter, wondering why the pair weren't moving, but the Baratie's fighting cooks had fallen silent. They could feel it. This was not a pause. The battle was still ongoing. The opponents were testing each other's balance, stance, determination...one fraction of an inch lost, one flinch, and the other would capitalize on that. 

Joints creaked; muscles strained to find the other's breaking point. Outwardly there was no movement as they both stood fast, but the wood of the landing beneath them groaned and rasped. All the spectators fell silent, an ominous breeze stilling them as they felt the growing power expended to break the hold.

Sanji rolled the cigarette to the other side of his mouth. "This puts us in a bit of a bind..." The first one to break the deadlock by backing up would leave himself wide open.

Muscles rippled in Zoro's shoulders, but Yubashiri didn't budge. Sanji could feel his supporting right leg complain in a muted fashion, but his legs were his weapons, they did his bidding. Standing balanced on one foot and pinning the sword of one very dangerous pain in the ass was what he was asking them to do today, so they did it. He was going to be sore tomorrow, but today he wasn't going to give an inch.

His sliced shirt drifted in the breeze. It was the only thing that moved. 

Zoro's eyes hadn't left Sanji's. "I want to do you so badly right now," he said softly.

"You're such a hopeless romantic. But can you focus now, before you get hurt? We're not weaving daisy chains here."

Zoro's edged grin would give a carnivorous rapan a nasty turn. He changed his hold on the hilt - Sanji immediately increased the pressure, trying to rip the weapon away or kick Zoro back but the prick didn't budge - and slowly reached down with his left hand to draw a second sword. Well fuck. 

"Two blades? I'm honoured." Sanji tried to keep his voice steady, but his mouth had gone a bit dry. 

"You should be," Zoro said sharply, but then the grin was back. Wadou came across very slowly from its scabbard on Zoro's right hip over to the left, and as it did so it trailed across Sanji's chest, dragging the sliced shirt aside, the blunt side of the blade stroking bare skin. The metal, cold as deep sea currents, touched off trickles of fire and ice through Sanji's body.

"Oi, dumbfuck, what are you doing?" Sanji hissed. "There's a kid watching." And hopefully that kid couldn’t see what was happening too well, or figure out that Sanji's increasingly ragged breathing wasn't just due to effort.

Apparently Zoro didn't give a damn; there could be a whole school of innocent tykes staring at him, he wouldn’t stop caressing Sanji with his eyes and steel. Wadou rose, dragging against Sanji's sleeve, up to his shoulder which it tapped gently. "So, what are you going to do now, cook?"

Sanji moved his lips in a pensive moue, making his cigarette wobble. "...I could promise to be really nice to you tonight?"

Zoro's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but his stance didn't shift. 

It was Sanji who moved. But he didn't pull back. He'd caught Zoro's first sword in a block; he used it now as leverage, shoving a heel against the sword's guard in one explosive release of power, to bring his other foot straight up into Zoro's jaw, slamming him back. 

"Or not," Sanji said, twisting around in mid-air and landing gracefully back on his feet. 

He took a drag on his cigarette and wandered over to where Zoro had fallen, tilting his head to get a better look at the prone man.

"You know, just between you and me, I think you look pretty hot too," he murmured. "Especially flat on your back like that. Very fuckable."

There was a tentative cheer from one of the younger waiters, who was naïve enough to think this was over. As if it had been a signal, Zoro reached up and rubbed his chin. The gesture looked easy, casual, as if scratching a mosquito bite. Bastard.

"Not bad, but it didn't pack much of a punch."

"I was trying not to break your jaw," said Sanji, nettled. Not that breaking Zoro's jaw would slow him down in any ways, except with the wisecracks, but it'd sure make him pissy for the next couple of weeks. "You're just lucky I managed to control my kick so well. Split-second balance on one sword while dodging the other...that was kind of tricky, not just anyone could have done that and not taken your head off." The dipshit could at least pretend to be impressed.

"...Wadou wouldn't have cut you. Even if I had taken a reflex swing at you on my way down."

Sanji trusted _that_ sword to follow its master's will, true, but that wasn't the point. "Feh, it wouldn’t have been fair play to actually count on that. I don't need any advantages; I can whip your ass in a straight fight any day of the week."

"Right."

Wadou was still in Zoro's left hand. Yubashiri had fallen point-first, slicing through the wood of the pontoon like butter to vibrate to a standstill nearby. Zoro pulled it out and got to his feet in one fluid movement.

Sanji studied him dubiously. "You want another go?" 

Keen eyes pinned his. "Of course. This was just...one of those fiddly things you always serve, starts with an A."

"Appetizer," Sanji growled before he could stop himself, though he knew damn well that Zoro was familiar with the term and was just baiting him.

"Time for the main course." Zoro's smirk was hungry; his fingers tightened on the hilts. 

"We just had lunch, dumbass. But..." Sanji smiled around his cigarette. "...I think I still have an appetite."

Twenty minutes later, Zeff declared that the two numbskulls could either call it yet another draw in their ongoing score, or else _he_ was going to get involved and kick both their asses. The spectators were screaming their heads off in their enthusiasm, the cooks were congratulating themselves on their Head Chef who could trade blows with the greatest swordsman in the world and walk away, and Zoro leaned over to give Sanji a hand up. 

"You okay?" he asked roughly, keeping his voice low enough to be heard only by Sanji. 

"Yeah, sure." Sanji stood up carefully and promised himself he wouldn't limp until he got back to the kitchen. "How about you?" He had this sudden urge to lick Zoro's split lip...Bad cook! Down! He had dinner to prepare. Save it for tonight.

Zoro rubbed at his mouth, then at another bruise on his shoulder. "Looks like I'm back to more rigorous training tomorrow. I'm slipping, if a bloody cook can score on me that easily-"

"Oi."

"-all this fuss with the kid's been a distraction."

They both turned to glance at Inigo, who was clutching Zeff's sleeve and staring at them with eyes like saucers. Zeff was examining the damage to the landing and making tsk noises. Zoro hooked one hand over Sanji's shoulder and they headed towards the old chef and the brat. The supply ship had almost docked back at the Baratie before Inigo thought to close his mouth. 

Once they were back on the restaurant's deck, Zoro glanced down at the kid. "Good fight, hm?"

Inigo nodded, eyes still round.

"Wrong." Zoro's tone cut like steel. "That wasn't a fight; that was just me and Sanji fooling around. If either of us had been serious, the other wouldn't have gotten up. If we'd both been serious, that landing and the Baratie would be driftwood. That's the level we're at. That's what you're aspiring to reach." Zoro crouched before the kid so they could see eye to eye. "Sanji's taken down a Shichibukai with that kick of his when we battled for the One Piece. I wonder if you understand how much work you're going to have to put in to be able to one day beat the cook, who fights weaponless and doesn't practice half as much as he should, let alone me."

Inigo practically wilted as he stared at Zoro. 

"Now, you can go and improve yourself on your own. I did. You might die trying. I nearly did. Or you can learn from the best. I did, though your father only ever taught me the one lesson and it was a good deal harsher than any I'll ever give you. The smart thing would be to stay here and learn from me until you're old enough to strike out on your own. But if you decide to stay on this ship, you respect Sanji. For the next ten years at least, he'll be a better fighter than you are. Plus, he's the one who feeds you and gives you a place to stay. You can try to kill me any time you want, I don't care, but don't diss the crap-cook. Me n' Zeff are the only ones who have the right to do that. Got it?"

Inigo nodded violently.

"Good. So, you gonna go or stay?"

The boy stared at Zoro's chest, where the diagonal scar lurked, visible through the open shirt. Finally, he spoke through clenched teeth. "I want to be stronger." That's all he said, but Sanji had the feeling that, between swordsmen, it was a whole conversation in itself. It seemed to be enough to satisfy Zoro, at any rate; he nodded and straightened up.

"Fine. First off, go finish what was on your plate; Sanji hates it when people waste food. Then take a nap. I'll teach you a few things later. The bloody cook and I have something we need to do first."

"We do? Hey-" Sanji stumbled after him, wrist caught in a vice-like grip. "Hey, dumbass! You _ask_ me nicely to begin with, and anyway I need to go get dinner-"

Zoro spun around. "Please, Sanji. Choose." 

Sanji's mouth jarred open in pure shock. ‘Please'?! Well fuck..."Ch-choose?" he finally managed to say.

"This wall or your cabin. Your call. The wall will be faster, you'll be in the kitchen that much sooner."

Sanji glanced around at the crowded deck, and a whole bunch of cooks and waiters suddenly remembered they had something very urgent to do elsewhere (which they did, incidentally; this was putting them way behind the clock for the evening shift). Then he levelled a lethal glare at the blasted swordsman.

Zoro met and matched it, and Sanji, instead of kicking him overboard, had a replay of the highlights from today's match...and if he tried to cook in his present condition, he was liable to make a mistake in the ingredients and concoct food that was way too hot and spicy to handle...He'd yell at the bastard later, once the day was over and the restaurant shut for the night. In the meantime- and since Zoro was so clearly _begging_ for it- 

"Hey, crap-geezer, can you start the shift off for me? I'll be there as soon as I can."

Zeff's stream of invectives was the kind of language they'd been trying to shield Inigo from. Sanji ignored it as he hustled Zoro off towards their cabin.


End file.
